Dirty Business
by Hey-its-CK
Summary: Just a little story about Harleen Quinzel and her friendship with the Joker.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hi readers! Thanks for taking an interest in my story. I'd like to give major thanks to my beta, Vo. This is my very first fanfic and all feedback (even flames) are more than welcome._

_**Dirty Business**_

Dr. Harleen Quinzel sat stoically at her desk. Looking up at the clock, she noticed it was almost quitting time. Her laundry-list of household chores came to mind. Lately it had seemed as though she spent all of her time at work. The dishes in her apartment were piling up, there was no real food in the cupboards and she couldn't remember the last time she had enough time to enjoy a hot bath. No, her work was her life.

She pulled out the day's newspaper. The front page headline read "The Laughing Man: Caper Hits Again." Harleen let out a sigh. This maniac had been snagging the front page all week. She skimmed the article with her eyes, not really paying attention to the words written.

"Dr. Quinzel?" A voice came through the doorway. Her head snapped up, slightly startled. She let out a sigh of relief as she noticed her boss standing in the doorway.

"Sorry Harleen, didn't mean to startle you." She told her.

"Nah, you're fine. It just seems so late, I forgot anyone else was here." She said, recovering. "Can I help you with something?"

"We just got a new patient. Need you to talk with him."

"I'm so close to getting out of here for the night. This can't wait until tomorrow?" She asked, sounding exhausted.

"Afraid not. This is big. We want someone in there now." Her boss said, throwing a folder onto her desk, some of its contents spilling out.

Harleen opened the folder and scanned the papers. She didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. He looked like a typical Arkham patient. She got to the end of the pile, to a blank piece of paper. Slowly, she turned the paper over. It was him. The white face, disheveled greenish hair, and that grin. She looked up at her boss.

"We have him?" she asked, shocked.

"We have him."

Harleen shoved the papers back into the folder and stood up.

"Which cell?"

"We're keeping him in isolation, cell A." her boss replied.

The two left her office, down the hallway to isolation.

Harleen was nervous. She didn't bother to hide it. She reached out to grab the door's handle. Her hand was shaking. Harleen had talked with sociopaths, schizophrenics, rapists, murders, but she'd never known someone to have so much impenitence. The door slid open and there he was, at the end of the table. His head slowly turned upward to get a look at her. He licked his lips quickly and gestured for her to sit down.

Harleen took a seat at the opposite end of the table and opened up the patient's folder. She looked up at him. He attempted to frown.

"I don't have cooties you know." He stated.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to sit that far away. I'm not going to bite you."

There was a silence. Harleen went back to shuffling her papers. The few seconds of silence that passed seemed like minutes to Harleen. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off before she could get a word out.

"What's your name doctor?" the patient asked, and leaned forward, interested.

"I'm Dr. Quinzel."

"Do you have a first name?"

"Yes. It's Harleen. Do you have a name?"

The man cackled. "Oh that's good!" He hollered.

"What?" Harleen asked, confused.

"Harleen Quinzel… harlequin. Can I call you Harley doc?"

"If you tell me your name."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something small out, laying it flat on the table. He slid the object across the table to Harleen. She stopped it with her palm and carefully held it up.

"What is this?" She asked.

"That's me. It's my… calling card." He said smoothly.

"The Joker?" She questioned.

"Bingo… unless you'd rather call me Puddin." He told her sarcastically. "So Harley what are we talking about? Hair care, gossip, politics?"

"I was thinking we could start with why you are here." She said, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"Easy. I'm here because you and the good citizens of Gotham think I'm crazy. Am I right?"

"You don't think you are crazy?"

"Crazy? No, no, no. I just roll with the punches. Get my kicks. I'm sure you live your life the way you want to. I live mine the way I want to."

"That doesn't mean you can steal and-"

"Kill."

"Yes." Harleen was alarmed by his bluntness.

"People have been killing one another since we were put on this Earth."

Harleen tried hard to find some sort of response. With any other patient she would have been on top of her game, but there was something about him. Part of him scared her a great deal, but something told her that he wouldn't hurt her. What really tripped her up was that he had absolutely no remorse. He thought what he was doing was perfectly fine.

"Allow me to be the symbol of chaos in your completely structured life… everybody needs a little chaos. Trust me it's fun." He grinned wide.

"Without structure we are stuck in a world of anarchy."

"That's the point Harley!" he said jumping up suddenly. "Anarchy! The way it was meant to be. We don't need rules… we don't need guidelines."

"That's not the way it works Joker."

"Why don't you ask me a question…"

"Any question?"

"I don't care… I mean, that's your job, isn't it?"

Harleen asked the first question to pop into her mind. "What happened, to make you look-"

"Like this." The Joker laughed. "So original." He licked his lips and sat back down. "That's not important. It was just a little accident."

"Okay. You aren't comfortable answering. Let's try a different question." She thought for a moment. "How was your childhood? Usually those things contribute to… well… behavior like this."

"Lets just say I had a rough childhood. My dear mommy and daddy weren't the nicest of people. My father was a mean drunk. And my mother, well I could never make her happy."

Harleen felt a tinge of sadness and sympathy. He was only a product of a rotten childhood, like so many others, she thought.

"That's awful. I'm so sorry." She said honestly.

"She killed herself." The Joker said, looking down at the table. "My mother."

"How did you handle your father, all on your own?"

"I didn't have to. The man drank himself into a coward's grave."

There was a long moment of silence. The Joker kicked his feet up onto the table and leaned back in his chair.

"So Harley, are you married? Do you have children?"

"No."

"Must be pretty lonely."

"I get along fine. Are you married?"

"No. I'm not. Could you really think of someone who would want to be married to this?" He gestured to his face and licked his lips again. "You know what? I like you Harley. You are a great listener. You are probably the greatest friend I've ever had."

"I'm just a psychiatrist."

"Oh. Of course… you don't want people thinking we're friends. It's because of that whole "crazy" thing. You know Harley, you really shouldn't care what other people think."

Harleen thought about this. She was getting tired of conforming to societal standards. Worrying only about her work and what others thought of it. She constantly compared herself to others in her line of work, raising the bar, not because she wanted to but because she constantly felt pressure to. She was tired. She was sick of it.

She looked up at the clock.

"What's the time?"

Harleen looked to the Joker. "It's late." Was all she told him.

"Time to be parting?"

"For tonight."

"Before you go… would you like to see a magic trick?"

Harleen didn't say anything. She just focused on pulling together all her papers.

"It's good I promise."

She looked up at him and nodded. With his hands still handcuffed together he walked toward her. She backed away slowly.

"Don't worry, it's just a harmless little trick." He reassured her.

She didn't know why, but she remained still. And let him move closer. Slowly he reached his hands around the left side of her head. He gave her a quick glance. She looked back into his eyes, not blinking. There was some calming force there. She trusted him. He quickly pulled his hand away from her ear.

"Ta da!"

He handed her a bright red rose. She cautiously took it.

"For you, Harlequin. I'll see you later."

"Thank you." She said backing away from him, towards the door.

"Sleep tight Harley, don't let the bed bugs bite too hard."

"Night Joker." And with that she slowly opened the door and left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hi readers! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Here's chapter two. Please review if you so desire._

Harleen woke up. Thinking that maybe she had dreamed up the events of the previous night. She got up and performed her daily ritual. Shower, get dressed, brush teeth, eat a bowl of cereal. Same thing everyday. But she was looking forward to today. She looked across the kitchen table and saw the rose laying out.

She dug through her cabinets and pulled out a glass. She filled it to the brim with water and delicately held the rose up to her eyes.

"Ta da." She said quietly, as she sniffed the rose. Then put it in the glass she had gotten out and set it in the center of the table, smiling. She looked down at her attire and let out a sigh. Her typical black slacks with a plain white button down shirt and black blazer, the same outfit she wore everyday. She headed back to her closet and hurriedly shuffled through her clothes. She traded in her slacks and blazer for a pencil skirt with a dark red shirt. She gave herself one final look in the mirror, and satisfied she left for Arkham.

Harleen only stopped in her office briefly. Just to pick up the Joker's folder. She headed straight for isolation. She nodded at the guards and they unlocked the door to cell A.

"Well good morning." The Joker cooed eagerly. "I hope you had good dreams."

"I don't know. I don't remember any… How are you?"

"Oh. I'm just peachy."

"Sarcasm… that's cute."

"No, no. I'm being honest. I'm an honest guy. I'm having a good day. And now that you are here buddy, it's even better."

"I was thinking we could talk a little about your childhood today." Harleen said, getting right down to business.

"I already told you it was less than pleasant."

"I remember. But I was just thinking we could talk about some specific moments you might remember."

"Oh. I'm sure my childhood was exactly the same as all the other criminals you get in here. I hated my parents. Daddy drank a lot. He was never happy with mommy and me. He never got to live the life he wanted, and he took it out on us. Mommy blamed me for dad's drinking… Did you have parents like that? Or did you come from a good home?"

"No. I never knew my dad. My mother was an alcoholic."

"That's a sad story. Seems like you and I have a lot in common."

"So it appears."

"Is there any chance I can get a peek at that folder?" He asked with a small grin.

Harleen eyed him cautiously. It wouldn't hurt anything, she thought to herself.

"I already know what it all says, but just I wanted to see it in writing."

Harleen stood up and walked over to him with the folder. He licked his lips and held out his hand.

"Pretty please." He said.

She handed it over. He brushed his hand against her's deliberately, throwing her a quick glance. "Thanks doc."

"You're welcome." Harleen told him, walking back to her seat.

He filed through all the papers. "This is not the most flattering picture of me." He said, holding his mug shot right up to his face. Harleen didn't realize it, but she was grinning. He smiled back at her. "It's just like I figured," he continued, "I knew all of this already… What I'm really interested in are the notes you are taking."

"You want to know what I think of you?" She asked him, sitting down.

He nodded. "I'm curious."

"Everything I'm supposed to think is written on those papers. But I don't know about you. I think you understand and grasp this world better than most sociopaths."

"So you would call me a sociopath?"

"Yes. I'd say you are."

"But you like me at least a little bit don't you?"

"Uhm-"

"I'm a pretty nice guy," He raised an eyebrow. "I make people laugh, why shouldn't you like me?"

"I guess I, personally, don't have a reason not to."

"So you do."

Harleen thought about this for a minute. She did like him. She'd only known him for a couple days, but he was kind to her and he was unpredictable. She liked the person he was and didn't care about the things he'd done.

"I do."

"Well perfect! We'll be the bestest of friends then. I've never had a best friend before. Maybe once I get out of here we can set up shop together. You know? Be partners in crime." He grinned widely.

"Once you get out? I don't think that's happening. There's no way you are getting out of Arkham. This place is a fortress."

"When your mother drank did she hit you? That's what my dad used to do." He asked through his teeth.

"When I was little. Once I got older I learned how to avoid it. I managed to keep myself out of the house by staying busy in school. How did you do in school? Did you like it?"

"Was better than the alternative I guess. But school is dull. I'm smarter than that. Don't you think I'm smart?"

"Yeah, you are. I just don't imagine most people think about the things you think about. They're more… practical than that."

"But you understand. That being practical isn't always the answer. And because I'm not practical I'm going to be one of the few people left after this world burns down."

"When is this world going to burn down?"

"Could be today. Could be tomorrow. I can help you Harley." He leaned forward, staring her in the eyes, "when it does."

She stared back at him. Was that an offer? Did he think of her as a friend? Harleen couldn't understand why but she felt glad, knowing that he'd have her back. Maybe she should be looking out for him.

"You look nice Harley."

"What?" She said snapping back from her thoughts.

"I said you look nice Harley," her name rolled off his tongue. "The skirt was a good choice. Your legs are to kill for." He smiled slyly.

Harley shifted uncomfortably. She'd received compliments from patients before. However, she'd never appreciated them before now. She was glad he noticed.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asked her.

"No. I just-" She began, straightening her glasses.

"Don't know what to think?" He finished for her.

"Yes."

"I think you should be flattered."

"I am. Thank you."

"You know Harley. I'd love to take you out sometime. Someplace nice." He flashed her a devious grin.

Harleen didn't say anything. She didn't know what the appropriate response would be. She just smiled back at him. Deep down she liked the idea.

"I think we could use a short break." She finally answered.

The Joker just gave her a big grin and nodded. Harleen straightened her glasses, collected her papers and left the room. Still thinking about the idea of a date with the Joker. She let a small smile play across her lips. It stayed that way the entire walk back to her office.

Her mind lingered on him for the rest of the day. Thinking about what he had said to her. That being practical wasn't always the answer. She had to agree with him. Practical people play by the rules. Practical people get stuck in a repetitious life. Practical people go to the same job everyday and come home to the same empty house every night. They are boring. They are pushovers. They accept whatever shit life throws at them and they take it with a false smile. She was tired of that life.

The two talked more about his childhood and spent a great deal of time talking about his theories on life and anarchy. The more Harleen listened, the more sense it all made to her. And she knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to try his life out. She wanted to be his partner in crime. Harleen was ashamed to admit it to herself, but she had fallen for her patient.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here is chapter three guys and dolls. Enjoy!_

Harleen left work late, as usual. She drove home with the radio off and the windows down, listening to the wind breezing by and the sound of the city. It was a quiet night, by Gotham's standards. There was the occasional car alarm going off or the voices of people chatting on the city sidewalks. Things in Gotham had seemed to have settled down now that the Joker was locked in his padded cell. Harleen thought of him in there, all alone.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the costume store. And in the window was a harlequin's outfit. She chuckled. The Joker had called her harlequin. How amused would he be if she showed up to work in that costume? What if she showed up right now in that costume? She could be the one to set him free. She could be the one to help him along in his crime sprees. He needed her.

It certainly had to be closed by now, but Harleen didn't care. Without thinking she pulled her car up to the sidewalk, parked and opened up her glove compartment. Harleen pulled out a mini revolver. Since the rise of the mob in Gotham she didn't feel safe leaving the house without it. She had a feeling she wouldn't have to worry about the mob anymore.

She walked to the door and with a sigh looked at the gun in her hand. She pulled her arm back and forcefully slammed the gun into the glass. The glass shattered and the store's alarm began to resonate. She quickly shoved her arm through the door and unlocked it, accidently cutting her arm on the jagged glass. She hurried over to the mannequin and skimmed the walls beside it, looking for the costume and spotted it in between a jester's outfit and what looked like a Queen of Hearts costume. She yanked it off the wall carelessly, dragging some of the other costumes down with it and ran back towards the door, reaching for the handle. She stopped. She turned her attention towards the register.

"Why not?" she asked herself.

She picked up the register and slammed it on the ground. The drawer opened and fell out. Harleen stuffed as much money as she could into her purse. She looked at the floor and noticed a twenty laying out. With a smile she picked it up and grabbed a sharpie from the counter and wrote:

_Thanks for everything._

Harleen grinned wide and evilly and placed the twenty on the counter then rushed to her car. She could hear the sirens a few blocks away as she drove off. She laughed. That was more like Gotham. Sirens and store alarms.

She pulled up to Arkham and dug around in the back seat for her costume. She pulled it out and took a quick glance at it. With a smile and a little chuckle she pulled it out of it's package. Certainly the Joker would get a laugh out of her costume, she thought.

It was a little loose on her. But Harleen had to admit, black and red certainly looked nice on her. She tucked her hair up and added the jester hat to her head. With a quick glance in her rearview mirror she decided she was ready. Grabbing her gun, she exited her car and strode into the building.

The guard in the lobby area stopped her. "Excuse me miss, visiting hours are- Oh. Dr. Quinzel. Did you forget something? What's with the getup?" He asked her dumbly.

"Actually yes. I left something upstairs."

"You couldn't wait to get it till morning?"

"No. It's very important to me. I'm afraid I can't do without it."

"Alright, well hurry up."

"I won't be long." She told him, heading for the elevators.

"Hey Harleen!" The guard called out "Were you at a costume party or something? It's no where near Halloween."

"Don't ask." She answered, trying her best to sound drained.

The corridor was dark. Harleen fidgeted with the gun in her hands as she made her way to cell A. She was nervous. She hadn't exactly formed a plan. She knew there would be at least one man guarding that cell. Possibly two. Should she shoot them? Kill them? Maybe she could just wing it, that seemed to be working for her so far.

As she neared cell A she could see that there was clearly one guard. Maybe this wouldn't be as tough as she thought. She slowly and quietly approached him, aiming her gun. As she stepped out of the shadows she softly spoke.

"Don't move." She told him.

"Dr. Quinzel?"

"Just be quiet and do what I tell you. Put your gun on the floor."

"What are you doing?"

"Don't ask questions. I need you to open the door. Unlock it." She said through her teeth, stepping towards him and pointing the gun higher.

The guard reached slowly for his gun and set it on the floor. Then he grabbed the keys and opened the cell. Harleen walked towards the guard.

"Give me those keys."

The guard handed her the keys. She stepped behind him and held the gun to his back.

"Now walk." She directed him into the cell.

The Joker looked up from the cot he was laying on in the corner.

"How can I be of assistance?" He asked the guard.

Harleen pushed the guard forward out of her way.

"Hey Puddin'." She grinned.

"Well, nice to see you Harley. I take it this isn't another therapy session."

"I'm taking you up on your offer."

The Joker hopped out of bed and strolled slowly towards Harley.

"I knew you'd come through for me." He grinned wide. "That's what real pals do."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Chapter four. I'm working on chapter five. I'll try to get it up soon._

"Harley!" The Joker's voice boomed from the kitchen.

Harley woke up with a jolt. Rubbing her eyes, she peeled herself from the floor.

"Coming!" She shouted back to him and lazily standing up, headed toward the kitchen.

The house was cold. It was always cold in the mornings. It made Harley miss her nice warm bed. But this was the life she had chosen. To live in hiding and take care of her Puddin.

She entered the kitchen to see cereal sprawled all across the floor. And empty, crushed boxes littering the counter. The Joker looked at Harley, a look of frustration on his face.

"Where are my Fruity Pebbles? I wanted Fruity Pebbles this morning." He said as he went back to rummaging through the cabinets.

"I don't know. I think you finished them off yesterday."

"What!?" He snapped at her. Harley felt herself jump slightly.

"I think we are out." She said softly.

"What am I supposed to eat, Harley?"

"Try a different kind of cereal. We have plenty."

"You mean the cereal that is all over our floor." He said dumping out the contents of yet another box. "You really want your boss to eat that?"

"It's not like you had to make this mess. Go ahead and eat it off the floor! At least that way I won't have to clean it up!" She yelled at him.

The Joker looked at Harley, his eyes narrowing. He took a few steps towards her. Each step Harley heard cereal crunch beneath his feet. She didn't know what to expect, even after living with him for three months his mood swings still surprised her.

"You yelled at me." He said softly.

"I'm sorry Puddin. I was cranky. I just woke up." Harley tried to explain herself.

"I can see that. I suppose I've been rather demanding of you these past few weeks. It's a wonder you just now snapped." His angry disposition turned into happiness. "Well then, if you say we're out of Fruity Pebbles I guess we're out of Fruity Pebbles. How about I make us some pancakes? Would you like some pancakes Harley?"

Harley looked at him. Her brow furrowed in confusion. After a short silence she realized he wasn't joking and she silently nodded her head.

"Great! Why don't you go lay down for a bit. Get some more rest. I can see you haven't had much sleep. I'll holler at you when breakfast is ready."

Harley opened her mouth to speak, to comment on his rather strange outbreak of kindness. But closed it again and headed back to her room to lay down.

She slept peacefully. Suddenly the sound of shouting and glass crashing to the floor woke her.

"What the fuck?" She whispered to herself.

She threw the blankets off her body and headed to the kitchen. She heard another glass shatter on the stone floor.

"Mr. J?" She called out.

"Harleen!" A female voice called out to her. The voice was weak.

Harley slowly stepped into the kitchen. A woman stood at the sink. Her back facing Harley. She wore a long grey bath robe and her long blond hair fell down to her waist in knots.

"Mother?" Harley questioned.

The woman turned around. Her face looked tired. Like she hadn't slept in days.

"Harleen look at this mess! Did you do this!? How can you live in a dump like this Harleen?"

"I'm sorry mother. I'll clean it up."

"It's too late for that Harleen." Her mother walked towards her, as she stepped closer Harley noticed a knife in her right hand and a bottle of vodka in her left. "It's already messy. You know I hate a dirty household."

"What are you doing? Why are you here?"

"I was lonely. You left me. You left me for your career, you selfish little bitch, and look at you now. Living in this dump with a maniac. You should have stayed at home Harleen. You should have taken care of your mother. I raised you after all."

"I'm sorry mother. But what about my life? What about what I wanted?"

"It's always about you isn't it Harleen?" She inched closer.

"Mother?"

"Well I don't need you anymore." She lunged at Harley with the knife. Plunging it into her chest, laughing.

Harley's eyes widened and she gasped for air.

"Harley." A voice called out.

Her eyes flung open and she sat up in shock. She was covered in sweat. She looked nervously around the room. Her eyes darting from one corner to the next.

"Good morning buddy." The Joker said.

She turned her attention to him, still breathing heavily.

"I hope you had good dreams." He told her. "But judging from your state, I'd say not." He laughed. "Want some pancakes Harley?"


End file.
